Becoming Human
by TakeAnother
Summary: It breathes.  It eats.  It drinks.  It throws up.  Better Living Industries' newest robot...abandoned in the desert.  Is it human?  Or is it robot?  California 2019 - DANGER DAYS fanfic.
1. Transmissions to Home

**California 2019  
><strong>**Zone 2  
><strong>**Wednesday  
><strong>**Emotion: Apathy**

It has been three days without food. Not sure how much longer human body will go on…but if I keep on this way I will be home soon.

**California 2019  
><strong>**Zone 2  
><strong>**Friday  
><strong>**Emotion: Apathy**

Found an abandoned truck. Filled with BL foods. Water. Still no sign of home.

**California 2019  
><strong>**Zone 1  
><strong>**Sunday  
><strong>**Emotion: Unknown**

I can see the horizon of home now. It is…I am not sure what the human word for this is. Need update on vocabulary.

**California 2019  
><strong>**Zone 1  
><strong>**Tuesday  
><strong>**Emotion: Unknown**

Seven months since last contact with human. Emotion felt now is unidentified. New update still pending.

**California 2019  
><strong>**Zone 2  
><strong>**Thursday  
><strong>**Emotion: Unknown**

Desert storm made moving difficult. Backtracked almost 100 miles. Horizon of home out of reach.

**California 2019  
><strong>**Zone 2  
><strong>**Saturday  
><strong>**Emotion: Apathy**

Found abandoned town. Radio station. Diner. Possible humans. Sending coordinates –

_Signal lost. _

_Disconnecting._


	2. I'll Be Your Surgeon

"Is it dead?" A quiet voice asked, the owner standing on his tiptoes to try and see what was going on. A redheaded man took a step away from the humanoid, passing a gloved hand through the brightly colored hair. He gnawed on his lip absently, scratching his head while trying to figure out what had happened.  
>"I don't know," he admitted, raising the goggles from around his eyes and letting them rest on his forehead. It was a girl, small in stature with a pixie hair cut. She was wearing a black jumpsuit that hugged closely to her features, elastic on her back keeping the fabric in place. She'd given no fight against the man as he'd taken his time trying to shut it down.<p>

"Are you sure it was a robot?" This first man asked, a discarded stick in his hand. He prodded it carefully, as if the slightest touch would bring it back to life.

"It wasn't wired like one," the second responded. "Though I'm pretty sure there was something going on behind those eyes."

"No kidding, huh?"

"Nope."

The two stood for a moment, the chilled air from the desert night whizzing by them. In the distance, over the hill where they were standing, the lights of an abandoned diner cast shadows across their faces, the bandanas tied around their necks hiding their faces. The redhead knelt and held his hand out for the stick the shorter was holding. A moment passed before the dead wood was placed in his palm, the half-covered fingers curling around it. He reached out to the humanoid and gently touched its cheek, breaking apart the curtain of jet black hair and pulling it away. It was a young face that he looked upon, its eyes closed and face absolutely pale. Raising a curious eyebrow, he prodded the cheek. Nothing moved except a stray snake, slithering its way around the first man's foot. He looked down and stomped on its head before returning to watching the red haired man.

"Should we take it back?" He asked. "The snakes are coming out."

"Right," the red one nodded. "Let's go." Grabbing it by an arm, he waited until his partner had the other in his grasp before dragging it through the coarse sand.

"What do you think it is?" The shorter asked as they hobbled along, taking one long stride and another short one while they dragged the limp body.

"Some sort of human-robot crossover, I'm guessing."

"Like the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W?" He asked, flipping his long black hair out of his eyes.

"I guess," he shrugged. "It seems more human though. Like something's been changed."

"That's a good thing, right?"

"Who knows," he sighed, looking down at her again. The sound of feet falling in sand soon changed to concrete as they neared the back door of the diner, light becoming brighter. The redhead pulled his bandana away from his face and let it lay slack around his neck before pulling the reinforced door open, letting the shorter lead the way in. The sound of a fuzzy radio could be heard from the kitchen, along with a few muttered words, followed by cards being shuffled.

"Maybe Ray will know," the shorter shrugged, starting farther inside only to be caught by the other.

"Hey. We don't know whether this is BL or not. Until we know if it's still sending out transmissions, let's not use our names, all right?" Nodding, the black haired man kicked open the swinging door to the eating area of the diner.

"What about me?" A new voice asked, its owner's back turned to the two.

"We found something."

"And you brought it back?"

"We didn't know what it was," the short man defended himself as a taller man stood from a booth, turning around to face the returned. He raised an eyebrow as the men tossed the girl forward. She landed face up, one arm slung over her thin stomach and the other sprawled out to the side. Pursing his lips, he knelt next to it and pushed the hair out of its face.

"If it's machine, it's disturbingly accurate," he muttered. The poofy hair around his head fell into his face and he pushed it back, the loose curls only bouncing back from the attempt to calm it. "But if it's human, something's been changed about it."

"Something like what?" the redhead pressed, crouching next to the curly haired man.

"Something mechanical? I don't know. Definitely made by Better Living, though."

"Great," the standing man groaned, pushing his own hair behind his ear. Shooting him a dirty look, the redhead pulled off his goggles and tossed them away, tiredly rubbing his eyes.

"Can you tell if it's still sending out transmissions, then?"

"Give me a minute. Why don't you two go check on Mike –" the curled man was stopped by a firm grasp on his forearm by the redhead. "Kobra Kid. He's been in the can for a while." The redhead looked up at the standing one, whose arms immediately rose up in surrender.

"That's a brotherly thing. I think it's your duty, Party Poison." Sighing, the redhead stood and left the room, pulling off his faded racing gloves and tossing them next to his goggles. Once he was certain he was out of earshot of whatever was being examined, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a box of cigarettes. Tapping it quickly on his unoccupied hand, a small white cylinder popped out the end and he grabbed it, sticking it in his mouth. Patting around his many pockets for a lighter, he found only a transmitter and hacker. He sighed and looked up. The bathroom door had met him faster than he had hoped, greeting him with a loud bump. Stumbling back, he rubbed his forehead.

"Occupied," came a voice from inside, sounding miserable.

"You have my lighter, you jerk," the redhead barked. The voice coughed inside.

"Sorry, but I'm not coming out for a while."

"Did Ray beat you in poker again?"

"No."

"Then why are you being such a child?"

"I ate something rotten," the voice cut off before it could explain and was replaced by violent retching. The man outside grimaced, rubbing his eyes again. "Don't eat out of that can on the counter."

"Wasn't planning on it," he retorted. "Mikey, please. My lighter? You can just slide it under the door."

"Give me a second," Mike sighed from on the opposite side of the door. The sound of a stall door opening came from inside, followed by a few muffled movements. A second later, a small silver rectangle slid out from under the crack.

"Thank you, slow poke," he muttered, bending over to pick it up. Flicking it open and starting a flame, the redhead inhaled the smoke quickly, the relaxing feeling it gave off stretching to his extremities. As he turned to leave, a coughing stopped him.

"Gerard?" Mike called from inside and the redhead stopped, letting the excess smoke escape from his mouth.

"Yeah?"

"Ray cheats at poker." Laughing, Gerard stepped away from the door and started down the hallway, stopping only a few times to take in another huff of smoke. Back in the seating area, the two others were still crouched over the newfound girl, whose face was still as pale as the direct sunlight.

"Anything, Jet Star?" Gerard asked. The curly haired man raised his head and sighed, shaking.

"It's definitely BL," he sighed, tossing a small white rectangle at the inquirer. Catching it with both hands, Gerard looked down, leaving it in one hand using the other to take the cigarette out. He turned it over in his fingers, finding a small black smiley face near the bottom. Glaring at it, he set it on the floor and stomped on it, the cracking sound of plastic followed by electric sparks jumping out from under his boot. He looked back up, his arms crossed over his chest. "Besides that?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing as in it isn't sending out anything or nothing as in you can't find anything?"

"Nothing as in it wasn't sending out transmissions even before you crushed that."

"Better safe than sorry," Gerard shrugged.

"You probably knocked out her connection when you unwired her," the second man piped up, standing and turning to Gerard.

"You unwired her?" Jet Star asked, also standing. Sighing, Gerard removed the cigarette from his mouth and crushed out its spark in the nearest ash tray.

"She was watching the diner, what else was I supposed to do?" Jet Star's eyes only grew wider, the disbelief plain on his face.

"She was watching us? Why didn't you blast her?" Turning back to the questioning man, Gerard held out his arms in an exaggerated shrug.

"It's a girl, Ray!" He snapped. "Only a few years younger than us, most likely. I didn't think it would be ethical, I mean she looks like she's been though about as much as we have." Ray sighed, looking at her once again.

"Fine," he muttered. "What do we do with her until then?"

"We could leave her in the girl's bathroom," the short man suggested, more than a joke than actual sincerity. Gerard shot him an exasperated glance.

"Very funny, Frank," he shook his head and bent his knees slightly, sitting down on one of the bar stools.

"It was just a suggestion," Frank shrugged, unzipping his dark green vest and tossing it onto the nearest booth, a bright yellow and black shirt left over his torso.

"Right," he sighed. He'd been awake too many hours to try and come up with a clever way to keep her detained. In the moment of silence, Mike's retching continued again from the bathroom. Ray grimaced, looking away.

"Maybe we could do that, just for a night," he shrugged, "I mean, it's not that bad of an idea. We could leave it some water and food, just in case it's human."

"Who's gonna check on it, then?" Frank asked, looking at the man.

"I will," Gerard raised his hand, the fingers blackened where his glove hadn't been covering. Both of the men turned to him and he shrugged, once again crossing his arms over his chest. "It's not like none of us have ever been in a girl's bathroom."

"All right then, that's one problem solved," Frank nodded, "But what about the food we're going to give her? It's not like we have it just sitting around." The other men were quiet for a moment, puzzled by the question. The retching from the bathroom continued, striking an idea in the redhead's mind. He jumped slightly and turned to see the can his brother had been talking about, the lid opened enough to stick straight up. Smiling, he grabbed it and held it up.

"What about this?" He asked. Ray and Frank turned, each raising an eyebrow at the suggestion. "It made Mikey sick."

"Is that what he's been throwing up for the past half hour?" Ray asked. Gerard simply nodded and he scoffed, wrinkling his nose. "It' been nasty."

"If it made Mikey sick, then why would we give it to her?" Frank asked, leaning against the booth he'd draped his vest over.

"If she throws it up, she must be human," Gerard reasoned. The puzzled looks of the two posed the question neither had to ask. "It doesn't take much for BL to make a robot that can eat and drink like us, I mean I think they already have it." They nodded slowly. "But if she's human, then her stomach will reject it, while if she's robot, then it'll just digest as if it was brand new." Each mouth opened in a silent 'ah' and Gerard smiled, nodding to himself.

"Good thinking," Frank smiled.

"Thanks."

"You two move her, then," Ray strode behind the counter and pushed the door to the kitchen open, letting it swing shut behind him. Gerard and Frank exchanged a quick look before the former stood, the latter already grabbing an arm. Taking the other, Gerard started moving forward, the man to his left staying at an equal pace. Mike's retching had come to a stop only seconds before they passed the men's room to the women's. The yellowed paint was chipping around the identifying sign, peeling away from the cheap wood underneath. Once the door was open, the two continued inside, the smell of mold and mildew wrinkling both noses. Dropping the girl's arms when she was far enough into the bathroom that no one would step on her, they each turned to the other, nodding in unison.

"It smells in here," Frank muttered as they left, Ray passing in between them with a half-filled bottle of water and the spoiled food. "Maybe we should clean it one of these days."

"You go ahead," Gerard waved, grinning. "I'm not scrubbing anything like that as long as I have free will." Shrugging and nodding, Frank stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"I'm just saying. I don't think it would hurt."

"As I said, go ahead."

Frank sighed and strode over to the booth he'd set his vest over, folding it over his arm and turning back to the redhead.

"I'm going to bed," he announced. "Just so you know."

"Have fun," Gerard waved again, unzipping his own leather jacket. The faded blue leather split away to reveal a red and black shirt underneath, the red was slowly giving way to the black, the parts that hadn't been stained fading to pink. Frank nodded and turned, disappearing into what they'd deemed as their 'sleeping area.' Rubbing his eyes, Gerard looked up as Ray reappeared, looking just as tired as he felt.

"So Mikey tells me you cheat at poker," he grinned. Ray paused a moment before also laughing, taking a seat on the stool next to the man.

"Also, according to Mikey, anything anyone can do besides him is cheating," he pointed out. "He doesn't sound too good."

"Then we're leaving him in that bathroom overnight," Gerard smiled. "I don't think I could sleep through his getting up every five minutes."

"Sounds like a plan," Ray nodded. The sound of the fuzzing radio behind the counter was the only sound for a moment, neither of the two not sure what to say. Gerard fidgeted, the forefinger on his right hand tapping his knee rapidly. "What are we going to do about it?"

"About what?" Gerard asked, leaning back against the bar.

"Whatever it is that's in our bathroom."

"Mikey? I thought we agreed a long time ago to keep him…" Ray laughed and shook his head, tiredly rubbing his forehead.

"The girl." Gerard nodded, biting the inside of his cheek absently.

"I know," he muttered. "The only logical thing to do is to wait until we know if it's human or not."

"If it is?" Ray asked. The fuzz on the radio died, leaving the interior silent.

"Maybe Dr. D knows what to do with it then," Gerard shrugged. "If he doesn't, then we'll probably try and figure out where she's from."  
>"What if we can't find it? We're not seriously going to keep her, are we?"<p>

"I don't know," Gerard sighed, running both hands through his hair. He pulled it taut against his scalp before letting it relax into its normal position. "I'm making it up as I go along."  
>"I figured," Ray nodded. "What if it's actually a robot?"<p>

"Then we do what we do with every robot," Gerard turned to him, standing and clapping the man on the back. "We shoot it."


	3. You're Someone You're Not

Morning in the desert was about as pleasant as salt on a cut. The sun became too hot too fast, promising only to be hotter as the day progressed. Any dead animals were sure to cook in the sand halfway through the day. Uncovered skin was sure to burn in about a half an hour, no matter how much product was being used to try and ward it off. The only solution was to wear about as much to cover the skin as possible, and anything left uncovered was to be decided by the powers that be.

Inside the diner, however, thick curtains had been used to cover any sort of sun in the morning, taken down after everyone in the building was awake. This, however, had been saved for the assigned sleeping area, leaving any other areas brightly lit as soon as the sun was completely over the horizon. Such was life in the women's bathroom, sun beating in right on the girl's face and piercing through her eyelids. Frowning in her sleep, she turned onto her side, an arm swinging into the tiled wall. She jumped awake, recoiling from the obstruction. Almost immediately her heart rate rose. Questions arose in her head and she sat up, a piercing feeling in her stomach almost flooring her again. Checking herself for blood, her hands moved quickly and methodically in case there really was a puncture. When everything was secured as present and correct, she looked around to see a half-filled bottle of water and a can of food sitting only a few feet away. Her stomach growled and her cheeks grew a pale red at her embarrassment. Scooting forward, she curled her hands around the bottle of water first, taking it to her lips. The water was a blessing to her dry throat, which immediately cooled. When that was empty, she turned to the can of food, reluctantly looking inside. It didn't look very hygienic (the smell certainly didn't help either), but at the state her stomach was in, she figured food was food and lifted it to her mouth, letting the lukewarm contents spill down her throat. Almost immediately she jerked it away, gagging. It tasted awful. It tasted like…like…

She blinked. The adjective she was reaching for escaped her memory. Trying to reach for it again, she found a rhetorical brick wall in her way. She shook her head and glared at the can before taking in her surroundings. Everything was either white or something akin to the color. Yellowed tiles made the whiter ones stand out, the molded grout in between only worsening the condition. Wrinkling her nose, she pulled her feet under herself as if to stand, though the lurching feeling of her stomach quickly brought her back to the floor. Coughing, she slowly pulled herself forward, desperately wishing for a toilet behind the stall door only a few feet in front of her. Raising a shaky, pale hand, she brushed her fingers against the molded door. The object of her wishing came as a blessing to her upset stomach, which became louder and louder with every passing moment. When she reached the porcelain throne, she rose to her knees, letting out whatever had been in her stomach before consuming the foul food.

Violent retching made Frank's nose wrinkle, the sound almost making his own stomach lurch. Pushing away from the door, he turned, the sight of a taller man in front of him almost sending him back through the wall and into the women's bathroom. The man in front of him raised an eyebrow, a smirk faint on his lips. He placed a hand over his racing heart and scowled up at the newcomer.

"Don't do that!" He hissed, scowling.

"Why not?" Gerard smiled, reaching forward and ruffling his friend's hair. "You'll live."

"Yeah sure," he muttered. "She's throwing up."

"So we hear," the redhead replied. "It's not that hard to miss."

"So she's human?"

"I certainly hope so."

The two paused, listening to the girl inside throw up. The usually disgusting sound almost seemed comforting at the moment, at least to half of those listening in. The shorter of the two, whose nose hadn't relaxed, shook his head and turned, making his way back to the eating area. Gerard watched him leave, his mind's eye recalling the image of the girl he knew was inside. His eyebrows pulled slightly together as he thought, trying to imagine the limp body animated; moving from one side of the room to the other, drinking the water they'd left for her, or even throwing up. When he came up with a blank, he shrugged and turned to leave only to be stopped by yet another figure. Bumping into the stronger body, the older of the two raised his chin to stare up at his brother, whose stony face was plastered in its usual apathy.

"It's good to see you out of the bathroom, Mikey," Gerard smiled, making the younger man scowl.

"It's good to be out," he replied. "I'm starving."

"Go talk to Ray," he suggested, smirking. "Unless you're afraid he'll cheat you out of food, too." Mike simply stared at his brother, obviously not amused. The two stared at each other a moment before the younger pushed past the older, making his way down the hall. Smiling, Gerard turned back to the bathroom, one hand on the blaster holstered on his hip. Taking a deep breath in, he let the smile fade before placing a hand on the heavy door and pushing. Squealing came from the hinges holding the door to the wall, giving away the element of surprise. The girl's coughing immediately stopped, the sound of muffled hacks still coming from her chest. Gerard took a few steps in before turning the corner into the main area of the bathroom, his fingers tightening on the blaster, one finger hovering only millimeters away from the trigger. The boots tightly tied around his calves groaned with every move, the leather rubbing against itself in the crease between foot and shin.

There were three stalls in the bathroom total, the paint that had originally covered them cream in color, but was now tinted a light brown. Each was always shut, the hinges too rusted to try and stay open for longer than a few seconds. It was the first time he'd been in the women's bathroom in almost a year, relief filling him when he noticed that nothing much had changed. Crouching lower, his blue eyes slit around the pupils, peering under the doors to try and find the girl they'd placed in the facility barely twelve hours earlier. The sight of a pair of legs swathed in black contrasted the lightly-colored tiles and he froze, curling his lower lip in. He hated the feeling of his heart pounding in his chest, a hard gulp of saliva doing little to calm himself. His teeth sunk into the tender flesh as he took a few steps forward, his boots still squeaking. Raising a hand to push the door open, he was suddenly glad he'd left his jacket with Ray in the other room. The last thing he needed was more leather to give his position away. As his fingers brushed against the metal it disappeared, swinging open. Flinching back in surprise, Gerard watched as a girl almost as tall as him appeared, leaning back on one foot, the other in the air. The bottom of her raised boot connected with his face and he reeled back, losing his balance. Falling with a loud thud on the linoleum, the man drew his blaster and aimed, stopping the girl in mid-step. His hands were more than steady, the yellow-painted blaster barely twitching.

The two stared at each other silently for a moment, the standing one waiting for him to flinch and the sitting one waiting for her to back down. Gerard took a moment to examine her face, the widened onyx eyes staring directly into his, the thin lips pursed into a straight line almost an inch under her pointed nose, and the dark brown hair that hung down to her chin, parted down the right side of the crown of her head. An eyebrow rose. He recognized the hairstyle. It took little restraint to reach up and touch his own hair, which bore terrible resemblance to the style she wore. A scar bore its way through her skin, starting above her eyebrow and down to the bottom of her cheekbone, its width the equivalent of two of his fingers next to each other.

As soon as the moment passed, she retreated her forward leg and placed it next to the other one, raising her arms at the elbows in a universal sign of surrender. Carefully pulling his legs underneath his body, Gerard stood, keeping the blaster pointed in between her eyes. Her eyes failed to move from his, waiting for an opportune moment to spring. He returned the stare with as much intensity she gave off, his own dark blue eyes unwavering.

"Gerard?" Came a voice from outside the bathroom, sounding worried. "Is everything all right in there?"

"Just fine," he replied calmly. "Come on in." The hinges squealed as the door was pushed open, revealing a mess of curly hair atop a calm face. The man stopped just inside the door, quickly taking in the position his partner had assumed, his right arm extended with a gloved hand curled around his custom blaster.

"What the hell happened to everything being fine?" He exclaimed, rushing forward. The girl came into view, her eyes unmoving from the armed man.

"Nothing, everything is still fine," Gerard assured the newcomer. "She just has some mean lower body strength." A smirk pulled the girl's lips up from the menacing growl she'd been wearing.

"She kicked you?"

"Luckily she aims high. She got my gut, that's all."

"That's all," Ray muttered, turning to the girl. "What's your name?" Her eyes flashed to him a moment before shooting back to the redhead. Raising an eyebrow, Ray turned to the man next to him and set an arm on his outstretched arm. "Maybe if you put the gun down she'll say something."

"I don't want to try it."

"Gerard."

The older man shot the younger an exasperated look before sighing and lowering the weapon. Almost immediately the girl sprung forward, left arm reared back.

"Shit!" Gerard hissed, sidestepping and ducking as she flew past him, her fist solidly connecting with the cracked mirror behind him. Quickly jumping off of his haunches, Gerard was quick to pull the blaster again. Ray took a step back, his hand shooting to the holster under his arm. Producing his own blue blaster, he held it in both hands in front of his body, forefinger ready on the trigger. The girl turned around to meet two blasters pointed at her, one blue and one yellow. Her fists remained clenched at her sides, the left dripping blood into a small pool on the floor. Pursing her lips again, she once again held up her hands, ignoring the crimson liquid slowly making its way down her forearm.

"Never mind, that was a bad idea," Ray murmured out of the corner of his mouth.

"I told you, didn't I?" Gerard retorted. "That could've been my head."

"I know."

"Where am I?" The girl's mouth opened and shut almost tightly around the three words, as if saying anything else was impossible. The two men stopped and exchanged a perplexed glance before tightening their grip on the blaster.

"What's your name?" Ray repeated.

"I don't know," she informed him with a heavy tone.

"What's your name?" Gerard intervened, his patience running low.

"I said I don't know," she snapped. "Tell me where I am." The two exchanged yet another glance.

"Answer another question and we'll think about it." Her eyes tightened and her cheek twitched into a scowl. "Where are you from?"

"I don't know."

"How do you not know?" He growled, finger tightening. "Everyone comes from somewhere."

"Gerard," Ray interrupted, not taking his eyes off of her. "Whatever we got out of her last night must've been a memory box or something." He turned back to her. "Do you remember anything?" Her lips didn't move, the bulge in her throat moving up and down. He turned to Gerard and moved closer to the girl, each step carefully measured in his head. "I'm going to put my gun down," he said quietly. "But only if you don't hurt either of us. We're not here to hurt you."

"Ray," Gerard warned, sidestepping toward the door.

"Trust me, Gerard."

"I'm trying, don't worry." Shaking his head slightly, the younger of the two raised his left arm and slid the blaster back into the holster hanging from his shoulder. He raised the hand up with the other slowly, not taking his eyes off of her. She watched him carefully, each move scrutinized with a dark eye.

"Do you remember anything?" He repeated, keeping his voice to a comfortable level. She slowly shook her head, the fingers on her left hand twitching. "Where you came from?" She shook her head. "What your name is?" Continuing to move her head back and forth, she pursed her lips once more. The man nodded slightly and turned to the other, shrugging. "I'm pretty sure she's telling the truth."

"That makes one of us," Gerard muttered, shoving the blaster back in its holster. Raising an eyebrow, Ray crossed his arms over his chest.

"So says the man who hesitated to shoot her yesterday," he retorted.

"She wasn't violent yesterday."

"Gerard, you're being ridiculous."

"Am I?" He asked, stretching an arm out to her. "Am I really supposed to believe that that small box contained every memory she's filed away for an x amount of time?"

"I do," Ray snapped.  
>"I'm not you."<p>

"Obviously."

"Gerard…" The younger man rested his forehead on his raised hand, pressing the fingers into skin and slowly dragging his face through the pressure. "Let's not jump to conclusions until we've reached Dr. D."

"What do we do with her until then?"

"We can't make her stay in here." The girl watched the two, her hands now resting at her sides. Gerard turned to her and closed the distance between the two, his eyes riddled with disbelief. Her chin rose as he grew closer, their bodies only a few inches away from the other. He stared down at her, towering a good head taller over her than he'd first assumed. She stared back, the breath coming from his nose hot on her cheek. He watched the color rise in her skin, the stubborn look she'd been shooting at him turning into one of fear mixed with confusion. They stood that way for longer than a moment, the taller trying to find the answers to the questions in his mind and the shorter simply refusing to step down.

"Fine," he scoffed, turning away from her and pushing his way past Ray and into the hallway. Crossing an arm over his chest and rubbing his forehead with the other, the man let a labored sigh break through the part in his lips. The idea he'd had the night before didn't seem like such a good idea at the moment. _That's not even the worst part,_ he thought cynically to himself. _Not only is Frank on board, but it seems that Ray is, too. At least I still have Mikey._ Shaking his head, he made his way into the eating area to see Frank sitting on the back of a booth with screwdriver in hand, absently hacking away at a new blaster he'd stolen from BL Industries. Sitting at the opposite end of the booth with his feet propped up on the table was Mike, his nose buried in a mass weapons magazine. His eyes rose from the article he was reading to his older brother, who had rested on the door frame to the hallway. Nodding slightly, he looked back down, his facial expression unchanging. Gerard smiled slightly and walked over to the bar, hopping onto the counter and swinging his legs over to the back. Looking up, Frank set the screwdriver down and crossed his arms over his thin chest. He watched as the redhead disappeared behind the bar, the sounds of fumbling coming from the shelves underneath. Two hands set a radio on the counter and disappeared once more. Nudging the foot of the man next to him, Frank waited until Mike looked up before nodding to Gerard, who was straightening, microphone in one hand and headphones in the other.

"What're you doing?" Mike asked, removing his feet from the table and shutting the magazine. His brother raised his head as his hands stopped halfway through attaching the headphones to the radio.

"Setting up the transmitter. What does it look like?" The two seated exchanged an exasperated glance before turning back to the eldest, whose back had been turned to them. Gerard turned the knob on the radio and lifted a set of large headphones over his ears, blocking out the sounds of the CD player pounding out beats across the room. His fingers fumbled a moment as he patted around for the microphone, finding a red switch around the base and flipping it on. Static fuzzed through the headphones and he turned back to the radio, twisting the tuning knob back and forth. Whenever the thin needle passed a large tic mark, the static would get louder before fuzzing out once more. He pursed his lips and continued passing it back and forth for a moment. Finally, the static fuzzed into a quiet buzz and his hand stopped, listening carefully.

"Today in Zone 2 we can expect low chance of acid rain and a high of 102 degrees Fahrenheit. As for all you Killjoys out there, keep your blasters handy and your mask on. You never know when you're gonna get smoked. This is Dr. Death-Defying signing –"

"Wait," Gerard interjected into the microphone, holding it under just above the base with one hand and pressing the right headphone closer to his ear. "Dr. D., wait."

"Who is this?" The deep voice asked, trailing into confusion.

"It's me, Party Poison," Gerard continued. "The connection isn't very good, but this is as good as it's gonna get."

"What do you need?"  
>"I have something for you to look at. We found it in the desert yesterday and we're not sure if it's…robot or not."<p>

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

"As in we're not sure whether or not to trust it."

There was a pause, slight fuzz filling the gap. Gerard could hear a heavy sigh through the headphones and he pressed it closer to his ear as he felt the connection fading. Finally the man on the other side spoke.

"You know the drill. Bring it in tomorrow."


	4. When Both Our Cars Collide

**A/N: Thank you guys so much for the reviews! I can't tell you how awesome it is that you like it. It's just…awesome. Adjectives aren't a good thing this late.**

**I know I could make many excuses for this being sooo late, but there's really only two. A) School. This has so many different assets to it. I'm in the school play so I have rehearsals after school on top of keeping up with my piano lessons and playing for our school's choir. Not to mention homework, which our teachers think we have nothing better than to spend our time on. (Yay ending sentences in prepositions…!) B) I've been sick for the past month, almost two. This leads to earlier bedtimes, all-around dread for working on anything, and an equal amount of motivation an alcoholic has to try and quit drinking. (If that made sense.)**

**Either way, your opinions of my personal life are your own, I know they are what they are. **

**And without further ado, chapter three.**

Gerard's fingers were clutched tightly on the wheel, his lips pursed into a straight line under his nose. While he'd been itching to climb into the Trans-Am that he and the other guys at the diner had customized and rebuilt, he hadn't been exactly looking forward to almost an hour's drive with…whatever it was sitting in the passenger's seat. Looking over at her from the corner of his eye, he watched her hair blow behind her as the needle on the speedometer slowly crawled up over ninety, the lowered windows airing out the once-steamy vehicle. She hadn't looked at him since he woke her up that morning, his voice less than pleasant. Even now, he could picture Ray's face in his mind's eye, watching the mouth move up and down.

"_You're bringing her, Gerard." Ray told him in a stern tone._

"_Why me? Why do I have to suffer through an hour long car ride with it?"_

"_It's not an 'it,' it's a her," Frank interjected, holding his hand out expectantly. Rolling his eyes, Gerard reached in his back pocket and produced his pack of cigarettes, tapping it on his hand. Frank smiled and took the freed tube, lighting it with the candle lighter under the bar. _

"_What do you care?" Gerard snapped. "Besides, it tried smashing me into a mirror yesterday. If no one else is there to watch it, there's no telling what will happen."_

"_She seemed pretty calm yesterday after you stormed out," Ray muttered. "Maybe it's just the way you were approaching her."_

"_Reassuring," Gerard retorted. "I still think this is a bad idea. What if we run into Draculoids?"_

"_In that thing?" Mike piped up from the entrance, his red jacket unzipped and his hand in his mouth. His teeth sunk into the fabric of his glove and he pulled it off, wiggling his new free fingers. "Impossible. I just changed the nitrous. You'll be good for much more than the ride there and back."_

"_Thanks, Mikey," Gerard murmured, rolling his eyes away from his younger brother. Shrugging impassively, Mike spit out the glove and repeated the process with the other. _

"_Anytime, Gee." _

"_Either way, you're bringing her," Ray repeated with more force. "You brought her in, you get to take care of her."_

"_I would've shot her on the spot if I'd known that she'd bring so many issues," Gerard mumbled. "Why can't Mikey come with me?"_

"_Because I'm busy today," his brother piped up. "I found rats in the dumpster behind the place and I'm taking them out before they get into the food."_

"_Frank?"_

"_Sorry. New BL vending machines are out tomorrow and we need the codes," Frank shrugged, letting the smoke from his cigarette spill out with every word._

"_What about you, Ray? She's seemed to warm up to you a lot."_

"_That may be so, but with those two busy, I was planning on holding down the fort." Rolling his eyes once more, Gerard stormed off down the hallway to where he knew it was sleeping._

"_Whatever," he grumbled to himself. "You're just going to sit around playing your guitar all day long."_

Scoffing to himself, the redhead turned to the girl next to him. Her profile was now turned toward him, her nose stretching away from her face as if whoever had put it there almost forgot it and molded a crappy one out of clay. The phrase struck a chord with him and he felt his own nose tingle. As he turned to look at her again, her hands shot to her face and she choked, each hack shaking her thin shoulders. He started, taking the wheel with one hand and placing the other on her shoulder.

"The hell happened?" He asked, turning her to face forward. She continued coughing, holding her hands over her face. "Hey, tell me what happened," he repeated. Shaking her head, she simply kept hacking away. Gerard rolled his eyes and turned back to the road, watching the faded yellow line whiz under the center of the vehicle. His gaze shot back to her every so often to try and see how she was doing, and the third time he looked she finally pulled her hands away from her face, her shoulders relaxed. She stared down at her hands, growing quiet. "What's in your hands?" He asked, watching her look down at her cupped hands as if she was holding something breakable.

"It's a wasp," she said quietly, keeping her head down and holding her hands out for the man to see the insect. Gerard frowned as he peered inside. The bug, although drenched in saliva, still squirmed, its tiny legs jerking. Raising an eyebrow, he straightened and set one arm on the door, letting his hand trail in the breeze.

"Let it go, it's still alive," he told her, watching in his peripheral vision as she did as she was told. "It didn't sting you, did it?"

"I'm not sure," she muttered, placing one hand on her throat. "It doesn't feel like it did."

"Good," he nodded. "It helps if you keep your mouth shut." She nodded in return, sullenly looking out the window.

"Where are we going?" she asked quietly, peeking at him from the corner of her eye.

"We're going to see a friend of mine," he said quietly, pulling the red-and-black patterned bandana from around his neck and handing it to her. "Put this around your eyes."

"Why?" Gingerly taking the cloth, she examined it in her hands a moment before carefully folding it over itself. Watching her out of the corner of his eye, Gerard noted the careful folds.

"Just do as you're told," he muttered.

"Can't I know where we're going?"

"No," he sighed, rubbing his eyes. "You can't." Pressing it against her face, she made a tight knot at the back of her head and lifted her profile back to the windshield, letting the wind blow her dark brown hair out of her face. He stared a moment before turning his attention back to the road. The asphalt stretched out in a straight line, touching the horizon and stretching out around the car. Silence grew between the two, the sound of the engine under the hood breaking through the quiet. He watched the yellow dots in the middle of the road grow quickly closer before disappearing under the car, only to be followed by more. Another silent moment passed and he scowled, reaching forward with his right hand and switching on the radio, a distorted guitar sound breaking through the speakers. The girl jumped, jerking into a straight-backed position. Gerard shot her a look out of the corner of his eye, returning to the road when he was sure it was only a flinch.

"What is this?" She asked as the vocal part of the song came in, almost as crunched as the guitar. Gerard smiled, turning the volume down a notch.

"_Mad Gear and the Missile Kid,_" he told her. "The last of the good music in this world."

"I see…" she nodded thoughtfully, listening to the music. Shooting her another glance, the redhead nodded to himself, the feeling of relief washing over him as a silhouette came into sight in front of them, the renovated building of what used to be a auto body shop marking the near end of their journey. He glanced at the clock. Only forty-five minutes ago, they'd started on their way. The shortened time came as a relief to the on-edge man, whose feet slowly changed from clutch to gas as they pulled into the abandoned parking lot. The girl's hand shot up to the blindfold when the car came to a stop, feeling the coarse fabric over her nose and eyes. "Can I take this off yet?"

"Go ahead," he shrugged, climbing out of the driver's seat and stretched his cramped legs. The bandana was quickly taken away from the girl's eyes and she stepped out, striding around the front of the car and holding it out to him. Stopping mid-stretch, Gerard felt her eyes on him and froze, opening one eye. She stood to his right, arm held out with the still-folded bandana in her palm. Relaxing, he took the fabric from her and shook it out, folding it at the corners and tying it around his neck.

"Thanks," he muttered, taking three strides to close the distance between himself and the building.

"Where are you going?" She asked, taking only one step after him.

"Inside," he said bluntly. "Where do you think?"

"It's a solid wall…" she murmured quietly. Gerard paused and took a step back, examining the front door to the old building. Smiling slowly, he turned back to her and shook his head.

"It's the front door," he corrected her, smiling and turning his back. "Dumb robots," he muttered, coming face to face with a graffiti stick figure. Placing a hand on the wall in front of him, he gradually moved it to the side and slipped his fingers under the wood, pulling the slabs apart. The girl watched as he stepped aside to reveal a dark inside, the light barely coming close to that of what was outside. He waited a moment before gesturing for her to go inside, holding the door open. "Nothing's going to come out and bite you." Shooting the man an exasperated look, she walked by him cautiously, her fists clenched at her sides. As she passed, Gerard took note of the bandage around her left hand, covering where she'd punched into the mirror the day before. He smirked to himself and followed her in, widening his eyes to try and compensate for the lack of light. The girl in front of him moved slowly and carefully, as if upsetting one board in the abandoned building would bring upon all sorts of troubles. Gerard stepped to her side, putting his hands in his back pockets. A moment of utter stillness passed and he raised a foot to step forward, the girl taking a glance to her right. Seeing that his face was serious, she did the same. At the instant her foot fell on the floor, a blaster was directed into her face, the pink muzzle only inches from her nose. Immediately she froze and stared over the barrel, the man behind the front sight's face masked by a blue-and-white polka dotted helmet. The girl's fists curled and she slowly raised her arms as a sign of surrender, taking a cautious step back. Gerard slowly reached out and took the barrel in his fist, reaching in front of her face. The man holding the blaster turned to him, slightly lowering his weapon.

"Go easy on her," the redhead said quietly, "she's with me." Nodding slightly, the man lowered his weapon and slowly moved backwards as if gliding over the floor. Turning to the girl to his left, Gerard watched her hands twitch to attack. He quickly nudged her with his elbow and shook his head, turning back to the man that had greeted them. "How's the Doctor?"

"Same as always, Party Poison," the man replied.

"I see. Is he available?"  
>"This way," he nodded. "Take her, too." Turning back to the girl, the redhead nodded and followed the man down a small corridor. The girl followed close behind, the slits from the boarded windows giving off minimal light. She squinted in the darkness, watching around the broad shoulders of the man in front of her. Small rolling wheels carried him into a lighted room painted red, shelves upon shelves of vinyl records in their sleeves lining the walls around windows. Directly in front of the door, facing the wall, sat a man hunched over a desk, his hand busy with scrawling notes to himself on a scratch piece of paper. Stopping just inside the doorway, the man on roller skates leaned against the frame and crossed his arms over his thin chest, placing one foot halfway up his leg for support. Gerard and the girl stopped in next to him, the redhead pressing in front of the girl.<p>

"It's been a while, Doctor," Gerard greeted, raising a hand and pushing stray strands of hair out of his face. The girl raised a thin eyebrow and looked between the redhead and the seated, unsure whether to speak or not.

"So it has," the man said, his chair wheeling away from the desk and turning, the motorized wheelchair making a tight circle. "Is this what you came for?" He asked, nodding to the girl behind the redhead.

"Yes," he nodded, stepping aside. "We found her just outside the diner." Scowling thoughtfully, the seated man wheeled over to scrutinize her face with care. The girl kept her chin raised and looked down at him with a measured gaze.

"Does it have a name?" He asked.

"She doesn't remember."

"What gave you reason to believe it wasn't human?"

"We found a memory cube embedded in the back of her neck," Gerard explained, stepping aside as the Doctor wheeled around to her back, staring up at the back of her neck. He removed the dark aviators from his eyes and craned his own neck, squinting up at the skin. At the base of her neck, a small rectangle of skin stuck out, paler than that of the rest that covered her body. Raising an eyebrow quizzically, the man moved his power chair back and gestured to the seat next to the desk.

"Sit," he ordered, watching as she did so. Her movements were quick and efficient, taking two quick strides before turning and sitting in a revolving chair. As he rolled over to her, the redheaded man turned her to the wall so the crippled man could get a better look at the back of her neck. Sure enough, even with the closer perspective, the patch of pale skin failed to change. He sat back and rubbed his chin thoughtfully, the black beard that covered the skin crinkling under his touch. "Do you still have the memory cube in your possession?"

"No," Gerard answered sheepishly. "We destroyed it almost immediately."

"Probably a good idea. If you wouldn't mind…" he nodded to the outer room and Gerard pushed away from the wall, striding out of the room and back out of the auto shop. The door shut behind him quietly and he sighed, leaning against the graffiti-covered wall. He crossed his arms over his thin chest and leaned his head against the building. Sometimes the doctor's methods were a bit…he struggled for the word, subconsciously biting the soft inside of his lip. Unconventional. That was the word. They were unconventional, but, he had to admit that they worked even better than Ray's. He sighed and let his chin fall against his chest, closing his eyes tiredly. Red hair fell around his cheekbones, barely brushing against skin.

Forever seemed to pass before he felt wood brushing against his leg. He jumped, pushing away from the wall and turning, a cautious hand on his blaster. A man smiled back, his upper body sticking out from the doorway. Relaxing slightly, Gerard smiled and shook his head.

"You're so jumpy," the man teased, his long black hair slightly blowing in the warm breeze. The redhead took a moment to examine the face in front of him; green eyes, a slightly curved nose, and sharp jaw were the more notable features that he'd used to remember the face, but the biggest reminder was the red makeup around his left eye and under the same side's cheekbone. It was odd seeing the man without his helmet, especially outside. Shrugging it off, he let his hand fall, his weight shifting to his left leg.

"Some would call those good reflexes," he replied. The man in front of him (he cursed himself for never remembering his name), laughed again and waved for the redhead to follow him back indoors. "Did you find anything?"

"Yes," the black haired man nodded. "She's human."

"Really? Sure doesn't act like it," Gerard muttered under his breath.

"I'll have the doctor explain it to you," he explained. "I'm not very good at this diagnosis stuff."

"All right," he nodded, the sound of automated wheels turning making both heads direct their attention to where it was coming from. Doctor Death-Defying, the crippled man in the wheelchair, stared up at both of them, the glasses still absent from his face. His tanned skin seemed darker in the dim light, but there was no mistaking the seriousness of his gaze. The black-haired man nodded slightly, slapping his redheaded friend on the arm.

"I wish you luck," he smiled, gliding past the wheelchair and into the room the doctor had emerged from. The door closed quietly, leaving both men in the dark.

"Shall we go outside?" the Doctor asked, gesturing to the door. "Even I need some fresh air once and a while." Gerard nodded and pulled the door open, letting the wheelchair buzz through before returning into the bright afternoon. The seated man quickly replaced his aviators to his face, protecting himself from the harmful rays.

"What did you find?" Gerard asked, getting impatient.

"As you heard, she's human," the Doctor replied, turning to face the tall man. "As odd as she is."

"That's an understatement," the redhead muttered, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Smiling, the Doctor rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"Her memory seems to be lost. That memory cube you found on her most likely held all of her memories."

"I figured."

"Did the cube have anything on it? Any sort of logo?"

"Well…" Gerard mused, picturing the small white cube in the back of his mind. He remembered the small black smiley face in the center, as much as he wished he didn't. "It had a BL Industries logo on it."

"As I thought…" the Doctor looked down, tiredly rubbing his forehead. "That isn't a good thing."

"Especially since we destroyed it," Gerard shrugged. "Oh well, what's a few more dollars in debt when we're already wanted?"

"It's not your debt I was worried about. I'm almost in the hole as much as you are," he looked back up, his hands falling from his face. "She's probably spent her entire life in Battery City. That's what I'm worried about." Gerard paused, turning the idea over in his mind.

"I didn't think of that," he murmured.

"I know you didn't, which is why I'm telling you."

"Can you tell me anything else?"

"Not much-,"

"Trust me, anything you can tell me is more than we know," Gerard assured him. The Doctor absently tapped the joystick popping out of the left armrest, keeping a steady rhythm.

"Her reflexes are top-notch. I'm assuming she's been trained to fight - maybe kill." Gerard nodded thoughtfully, the feeling of her fist whizzing past his cheek into the mirror pulling his face into a scowl. The Doctor finally pressed the joystick forward, turning in a small circle. "I gave her a few logic puzzles and she solved them in almost a heartbeat. If I still had my old location, I would've scanned her brain for any sort of device in there, but since the circumstances are as they stand…" he stopped and thought a moment before continuing his movement. "I'm almost certain it's pure brain power."

"So what are you trying to get at?"

"I'm trying to tell you that she's human."

"I know that already, I've been told twice." The Doctor lowered his aviators and shot the man an exasperated glare, waiting until the redhead calmed himself and returned his hands to his pockets.

"She may be human, but she was raised like a robot. She hardly knows anything about emotion. I ran a number of tests and she failed each and every one. The only emotion she really reacted to was anger," he explained. "It doesn't really prove my theory, but it helps it along nicely."  
>"Can we get to your conclusion?" Gerard asked, committing the knowledge to memory.<p>

"My conclusion," he sighed, "is that you've found BL's newest attempt to try and make humankind 'perfect.'"

"Lovely."

"Judging from her memory loss, the cube was implanted into her a long time ago, probably before she could remember anything for herself. When you took it out, you wiped away any memory."

"I think we've covered that."

"She's starting new," the Doctor almost snapped before another snarky comment could be made. "Like a child in a young adult's body, with a grown man's strength and brain power."

"Is that it?"

"Yes."

"So she's staying here," Gerard asked, his hopes falling as the man gave him a grimace.

"She'd be in too much danger here," the Doctor told him sternly. "Unlike you four, I can't protect her from BL Industries."

"Who says they'd want her back?" The redhead asked. "Last time I checked, they really didn't care about their 'equipment.'"

"I'd think they'd want this one back. The memory cube you described must've taken over a million dollars to create, and then another twenty years to make sure it worked."

"So you're saying they started this experiment before they took over?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying. The girl was most likely born in the 1990s." Gerard paused, his brain beginning to ache. "I'm almost certain they'd want her back. You'll have to look after her." He felt his shoulders slump at the news, trying hard to keep from pressing the argument any further. When the rest of the guys heard about it, there would definitely be some major changes. His head started whizzing just thinking about it. First, how would they even out the rations? They'd been going at a steady pace ever since they'd started on their own, four equal parts. Second, where would she sleep? Surely Ray and Frank would have nothing to do with keeping her in the bathroom, as much as he wanted her to stay there.

"Yes sir," he nodded after a moment of thinking; trying to figure out how it would work out. The Doctor nodded.

"If you'll excuse me…" he started, nodding to the door. Gerard pulled it open and let him wheel through, following him into the darkness. "There are transmissions that must be made."

"Right, right," the redhead nodded, pulling the second door open to reveal the room on the other side, the girl and the roller skated man sitting awkwardly on opposite ends of the room. Both jumped at the entrance of the other two, their heads shooting up. Doctor Death-Defying continued on his way toward the desk, his hands already busy before he came to a stop. The roller-skated man quickly resumed his tasks, gliding about the room as if it took nothing to turn the wheels on the bottom of his feet. Gerard turned to the girl, whose face was drawn and weary. Nodding with his head, he started back out of the room, the sound of her light footfalls trailing quickly behind his own.

"You'll be staying with us," he informed her when they were out in the open. "The Doctor has no means of taking care of you here." She nodded in return, quietly opening the door of the Trans Am and sliding inside. Doing the same, the redhead turned the key in the ignition and pulled out of the abandoned lot, his feet dancing from clutch to gas pedal as if he was born to do so. Out of the corner of his eye he watched as she turned her head out the window, watching the bland scenery pass by. Letting a long breath out from in between his lips, Gerard readjusted himself in his seat, letting his head fall back against the headrest.

It was almost a half an hour before either of them moved, the sounds of the radio pumping through the speakers and into the air around them enough to appease the pair. When one of them moved, however, it was the girl. She leaned forward, her onyx eyes narrowing to try and see better.

"What's wrong?" Gerard asked, his eyes darting to the rearview mirror. A smudge appeared on the horizon, moving steadily at the rate that they had set on their own.

"It's a car," she said quietly. Feeling a sinking feeling in his stomach, the man leaned forward himself and squinted into the reflective glass. Sure enough, the smudge slowly became larger as he drove, taking a definite shape. The feeling worsened as he made out the sleek black car rushing toward his own car, a human shape poking up from the sunroof.

"Shit," he hissed, his foot becoming lead on the gas. The sudden movement brought the girl back against her seat, her eyes widened.

"What is it?" She asked over the sound of wind tunneling through the car. Reaching for his blaster, the redhead pulled his bandana up over his mouth and nose, pressing his knees up against the steering wheel to keep the car on the road. With his free hand, he reached into the back seat and produced a pair of tinted goggles, pulling them over his head and eyes in one fell swoop. With his blaster in his left hand, he took control of the wheel with his right hand.

"BL Industries," he muttered, nodding to the glove compartment. "There's a mask in there." Nodding, she leaned forward and pulled the handle, releasing the door. A faceless Mardi Gras mask stared up at her, a yellow base sticking out in the dark compartment. Black triangles stuck out from the eye holes, three blue dots spread out on the forehead and cheekbones. She pulled it out and kicked the door shut with her knee, stretching the elastic behind her head before snapping the small disguise onto her face. Shooting her a sideways glance, he nodded slightly and tightened his grip on the wheel.

"Hold onto something," he warned her, his eyes shooting back to the approaching car. "Mikey, I really hope your nitrous works."


	5. Never Mind the Times I've Seen It

**A/N: Thank you for the reads/views/reviews/feedback I've been getting! It has all the reason I'm still (slowly) writing these chapters. Once again, I apologize for the long wait. I've been pondering what the plot is about…right now I'm pretty much making it up as I go along. I have a few ideas, but none of them are really set in stone at the moment. That's basically what I'm blaming the slowness on…and it's not quite totally wrong, either. .**

**Without any further ado, chapter 4.**

"What are you doing?" the girl's voice carried over the music, staring incredulously at the man driving. Gerard barely blinked, his foot leaden on the gas pedal. His eyes darted over to the rearview and side mirrors every two seconds. The once-smudged car behind them was easily gaining on the two. Cursing under his breath, the redhead turned back to the girl.

"Do you know how to shoot a blaster?" He asked, the volume of the radio almost drowning out his voice.

"What?" She screamed.

"Do you know how to shoot a blaster?" He repeated, slower. She paused, unsure how to answer.

"I can't remember anything past two days ago," she yelled, but Gerard's mind was already far off.

"There's a blaster under your seat," he informed her, watching the needle on the speedometer top out.

"Can't you hear me?" She protested, "I don't know how to shoot it!"  
>"Don't worry," he called. "It's the same as shooting a pistol. Aim and fire."<p>

Growling, the girl bent under her seat and felt around, her fingers brushing against softened aluminum-alloy. She pulled the weapon out from under the seat and stared at it, the unpainted blaster heavy in her hands.

"Now what do I do?" She screamed over the sound of the wind and radio.

"Just what I told you to," he hollered back. "Aim and fire."

"I was hoping for a bit more of an explanation…" she muttered under her breath, pressing the eject button on the fastener of her seat belt. The belt itself whipped back across her chest and back to its waiting position, leaving her free. She turned, setting her knees on the seat and facing the back of the car, holding both hands outstretched in front of her. The car behind them, now much closer than she remembered, swerved slightly, a figure appearing from the passenger side window. She took a moment to aim before tightening her finger on the trigger. A flash of light burst from the barrel of the gun and sped away from it, almost too fast to be seen. The figure sticking out from the passenger's seat disappeared back inside the car and she turned around, sitting back down.

"Did you hit them?" Gerard asked, keeping his focus on the side mirror while watching the road in his peripheral vision.

"No," she sighed, looking over at the man. "I must've barely missed."

"Dammit," he muttered, watching the car suddenly move closer. Cursing again under his breath, he stretched his arm backwards, twisting his hand over his shoulder and firing. The girl in the passenger's seat craned her neck to look behind her, the face of the man she'd shot at easier to see. Whoever he was, he was wearing a white-fleshed mask, its mouth perpetually open with sharp fangs sticking out of it. Bushy eyebrows stuck out of the mask, the same color and texture as what was sticking out of the back of the head. Around the mouth, red paint was stuck to mimic blood, trailing down the chin. She blinked, watching the rest of his white-clothed body twist to look behind him.

"What are they?" She asked, turning back to the man driving.

"Draculoids," Gerard said over the music. "BL Industries' minions."

"And why are they chasing us?" She called back, the sound of crunching metal followed by a wrenching jerk sending both Gerard and the girl whiplashing forward.

"I'll explain later!" The redhead yelled, reaching for the gearshift, which was tucked neatly into fifth gear. "Right now, shoot!" Nodding, the girl turned in her seat again, pointing her pistol out at the car, which was ready to bump into their bumper again. Placing his hand on the gearshift, Gerard flipped open the top of the stick, revealing a small white button. His thumb hovered over it for a moment, gas pedal once again coming into contact with the floor of the car. "Hang on!" he screamed, pressing down on the plastic button with all his might. Almost immediately the engine's custom pistons were attacked with gas and fuel, increasing the rotations inside. The vehicle was subsequently thrust forward, the gas coming out of the exhaust pipe turning a light purple. With a yelp, the girl was pushed back against her seat, the headrest digging itself into her stomach. A couple shots could be heard as the car started moving faster, the brunette pushing herself off the seat. As soon as she straightened, the last shot was fired from the car behind them. The force of the car moving forward turned out to be too much for her and she was propelled forward again.

Leaning, of course, straight into the path of the blast.

A piercing feeling buried itself into her shoulder, the fabric of her jumpsuit tearing away with skin. Blood spewed out from the shot, which cleanly entered and exited her body in a matter of milliseconds. With a cry, she reached across her body and held the wounded arm, cradling it carefully. Without her arms to keep her up from the chair, she doubled over the top of it again and hung there. Turning quickly, the sight of crimson red liquid caught Gerard's attention and he started, almost letting go of the nitrous. He caught himself and turned back to the road. The speedometer's needle bounced up and down on the tic mark for 150, not able to go any farther. A simple look in the rearview mirror told him he should've hit the nitrous a lot sooner. The invading car was fading away in the background, the Draculoid tucked back away in the passenger's seat. His shoulders relaxed and he waited a few more seconds before releasing the button, the gauge implanted next to the radio pointing to halfway empty. A slow smile appeared on his face. _Thank you, Mikey. _

Turning back to the girl, his feeling of self-satisfaction dissolved. In an attempt to right herself, she'd fallen back against the car door, her head leaning on the passenger's seat. She was holding her right arm carefully, the jumpsuit ripped and frayed away from the skin. Blood spilled onto her arm where the sleeve had been rolled up, dripping down onto her leg. On her face was a tired, mentally-and-physically wiped look, watching him carefully.

"Are you all right?" He asked, still keeping the gas pedal on the floor. She nodded slowly.

"They missed my jugular," she replied, her voice not loud enough to be heard over the crashing wind. "Barely."

"I'm going to be pulling off the road soon," he called over to her. "That needs to be treated immediately."

"I'll be fine," she tried reassuring him, but his gaze was already locked on the road again. _Mad Gear and the Missile Kid_ continued to pump through the radio, shaking the speakers. They continued on this way for a few minutes. Her vision began to fade, the amount of blood lost too much for her bravado. The feeling of consciousness seemed familiar to her and she gave into it, her body becoming limp. Jumping, Gerard turned and swore loudly, pulling off the asphalt and onto the desert sand. Tires ground over the small pieces of rock, dust kicking up behind them. A nearby dust mountain grew closer and closer, the redhead's mind racing. There were medical supplies in the back. He'd get her out of the car and bandage her there. He'd make a fire to keep her warm. A glance up at the sky told him that they'd have to camp out in the desert tonight.

"Great," he muttered. Sleeping outdoors was one of the hazards of visiting Dr. D., but he'd known that when he left. "Damn Draculoids." A sudden chill swept through the car and his scowl became deeper. Sleeping outside would be a negative. There were two blankets in the trunk with the medical equipment. _One for her and one for me,_ he decided, the car coming to a slow stop. The sun was halfway under the horizon. The snakes would be coming out soon, another reason he hated sleeping outside. He quickly hopped out of the car and jammed the key in the slot for the trunk, turning it hastily. As soon as the door was opened, he grabbed the bundle of blankets and medical kits and scurried around to the driver's seat again, lifting the goggles off of his eyes and onto his forehead and pulling the bandana around his neck. Quickly separating the two, he tossed the blankets in the back seat and set the kit next to the gearshift. Her eyes fluttered as he worked, his hands busy yet efficient. A cough shook her shoulders and she sat up, only to be pushed back against her seat. The gloved hand of the man in the driver's seat pressed against her stomach, too cautious to go any higher.

"Stay down," he said. "You've lost a lot of blood. I'm going to stop it before it gets any worse." Nodding slightly, the girl relaxed against the seat and watched the man take out gauze and bandages. She winced and sat forward, grabbing the zipper in the middle of her collar and pulling it down. Her motions were slow and careful, gingerly pulling away the fabric from the blast hole. As soon as her arm was through the sleeve, she tucked the jumpsuit under her shoulder and looked back at the redhead, whose gaze turned from the kit up to her.

He stopped, his eyes slowly opening and closing.

"Is everything all right?" She asked, her voice hoarse. Gerard blinked slowly again, a lump forming at the back of his throat. The entrance for the blast was small, as precise as only a beam of light could be. Under the wound was stained with blood, the skin around the hold a dark charcoal color. A bright red glowed from underneath the blackness, showing infection. Scowling, Gerard started to bandage the wound, pressing the gauze carefully over the wound and pulling the bandages tight. The girl gasped as he pulled, pain shooting from her shoulder into her body.

"I know, I know," he muttered. "It hurts."

"Haven't you ever been shot before?" She retorted, watching a small smile come onto his face.

"Yes, but not quite as seriously as this," he replied, pulling the bandage even tighter to tie it off. Groaning in pain, the girl fell back against her seat as he started to put the items away. "It's gotten infected, too. I hope you don't expect to be lifting anything heavy any time soon."

"Maybe, maybe not," she muttered under her breath, using her good arm to pull the mask off of her eyes. Smiling, Gerard turned the key in the ignition to start the engine, rolling the windows shut.

"Are we going back?" She asked, watching him crawl into the back seat.

"Unfortunately, no," he replied, taking the key out and stuffing the ring into his back pocket. "We'll be sleeping out here tonight." Nodding solemnly, she turned to him. He held out a blanket to her and she took it with her good arm. She pulled it around herself, stretching the black and red stripes around her shoulders. The two sat in silence for what seemed like longer than a standard moment. Gerard frowned, his ears ringing with the silence. He looked up at her, pursing his lips. The blanket had already been moved away from her shoulder. She was examining the tight bandage, her face twisted in some sort of disapproval. "Is something wrong with it?" He asked.

"It burns," she said quietly, marveling. "I don't remember ever feeling something like this before."

"Blasters are relatively new," he mused. "I can understand that." Silence again. Gerard freed an arm from his own blanket and passed it through his jet red hair. It was odd, looking at her. _She gives me the willies…_ Gerard mused, stretching out on the back seat. His eyes closed. "Do you have a name?" She asked quietly, pulling her legs up to her chest. His blue eyes opened and he watched her face, her eyes earnest yet curious. With a small smile, he pushed his hair out of his face and yawned.

"Gerard," he said quietly, his voice barely higher than a whisper. The girl nodded slightly and closed her own eyes. The smile slowly faded from his face and he lay back down. "Is there anything I can call you?" Black eyes opened suddenly, a red tinge coming to her cheeks.

"I…I don't know…" she stammered, looking away. The man watched her face fall and he softened. _Dr. D must've been telling the truth,_ he thought, sighing. Bringing the blanket tighter around her, the girl closed her eyes tiredly. Dirt was smeared on her face from the chase, outlined where the mask had been strapped to her face. A small smile came across his face and he closed his own eyes, settling into the seat.

"Bandit," he said quietly. Her eyes shot open and she turned to him, watching the blue eyes open once again. "Do you mind if I call you Bandit?"

"N-not at all," she said quietly, smiling. Gerard returned the smile and shivered, the cold of the desert night seeping into the car. He turned to her, her own body slightly shivering. Watching her a moment, the man sighed and lifted his blanket.

"Come back here," he murmured. Turning her head, she raised an eyebrow. "The only way we're going to keep our body temperatures up is if we sleep next to each other," he backtracked quickly, seeing her puzzled glance. "This is where there's the most room in the car." Nodding, the girl slowly crawled over the center console and stretched out in front of him, pressing her body up against his. As she lay down, Gerard rewrapped his blanket around himself and the girl, his eyes slowly closing of their own accord. He didn't curse the extra body heat. In fact, he pulled her closer to himself, the feeling of another body bringing a flood of memories back to his subconscious. Bandit's breathing slowly became slower, a sign of her falling into dreamland. Gerard shut his own eyes and let out a slow sigh. Sleep would have to come sooner or later, and the faster he could slow his breathing down, the faster it would come. He felt the slow tugs of dreamland pulling him and he let himself go, falling deep into the throws of the sandman.

_It was dark. The smell of blood and gunpowder was heavy in the air, tingeing the nose of the man. His eyes slowly adjusted to the new light, the uneasy feeling of doubt and panic washing through his body. A throb resounded in his heat, getting louder and bigger with each heartbeat. Rocks and twigs dug into his hands and knees as he crawled forward. The remnants of what had been a house lay behind him. _

_The house was the least of his worries at the moment. _

_He followed the sound of a crying baby, feeling his way around the rubble. The cries became louder as he moved, feeling his own lungs grow hot with smoke. Three heavy coughs erupted from his chest, almost sending him against the ground. Every breath came as a wheeze, the feeling of air passing in and out of his lungs becoming scarcer. The sight of another house going up in flame caught his attention and he turned away from his own task. Flame burst out of the windows, destroying whatever they licked. The bright light ruined his night vision and he cursed under his breath. _

"_Lindsay?" He called, his voice hoarse. The sound of a woman's groan came as a reply and his stomach dropped. "Lindsay…talk to me…" he said quietly and continued forward, the baby's cry becoming louder and louder. _

_There was no response. _

_The panic in the man's stomach grew, turning into nausea. _

"_Lindsay…" he tried again, his hand brushing against arm. The sound of the baby's cry was directly under him and he stopped, watching as the light from the house's fire illuminated the woman's still face. He stared down at it, feeling everything drop to his knees. _

_The woman's eyes were opened, eyelids slowly opening and closing. Short breaths rocked her chest, the baby that had been crying moving with it. Blood ran from the woman's stomach and arms, pieces of the house that they'd once lived in sticking out from her body. The man could feel tears at the sides of his eye, contrary to the parched feeling in his mouth. He reached a hand out and gingerly set it on her head, pushing the black strands out of her face. _

"_Lindsay…" he said quietly. She turned to him and her mouth opened. A wheeze came from her mouth. "Shh..." he hissed, the sound of footsteps growing closer. Looking up, he was met with the artificial face of a man, the plastic skin pale as a fresh winter snow. Red lips were stuck open in a snarl, bushy eyebrows and hair casting long shadows behind him. A gun painted white was held in his hand, pointed toward the ground. Shrinking back, he watched as the pistol was raised. His eyes widened as he stared down the barrel, the red-hot bullet tucked neatly at the end. The feeling of the woman's hand closing around his sent shockwaves through his arm and he looked down at her. _

"_Run," she mouthed. _

_The sound of a gun firing stopped the man in his tracks, the feeling of a bullet burying itself in his shoulder sending white pain throughout his entire body. Yelling in pain, he grabbed his shoulder and doubled over the woman, whose breathing only got faster and faster. The baby on top of her chest continued crying, as if the smoke and dust around the small family did nothing to hinder its lungs. The man coughed, groaning to try and keep his screams inside his mouth. Looking back up at the masked man, he watched with eyes wide as gloved hands started reloading the gun. _

"_NO!" He screamed as the pistol was pointed down at the woman's head, which was still turned to watch his face. A hand appeared on the standing man's shoulder and he stopped. The crouched man watched as the owner of the hand stepped forward, a bald man with the same white jumpsuit as the first. Blood continued spewing from his shoulder as he watched the bald man stare at him a moment, producing his own pistol. Before he could move, the man's finger tightened on the trigger. He shrank, expecting to feel another bullet piercing into his body. When none came, he turned to Lyn-Z, whose eyes had glassed over, opened in eternal sleep. His breath became even more ragged and he screamed again, the feeling of his heart beating faster and faster raising his adrenaline. Turning back to the two standing men, he slowly pushed himself into a standing position. _

_Headlights swung onto the dead end street, accompanied by squealing tired. The man was too focused to turn. His eyes were locked on the man who had killed his wife, whose face had barely moved. _

"_Gerard!" A voice came from behind him. He didn't flinch. The headlights grew closer. Gerard, pushing his jet-black hair out of his face, took a step closer to the two men, watching as the masked one raised his pistol. _

"_Grab him!" Another voice yelled. Before Gerard could move his arms to hit the pistol out of the man's hands, a strong hand tightened around his shoulder. _

"_Snap out of it, we've got to go!" A man yelled behind him, pulling him away. As he moved, the pistol was shot again, grazing the top of Gerard's shoulder. _

"_No!" he yelled, the feeling of falling backwards only to hit a leather seat barely registering. The car door was slammed shut and the car was propelled forward. "They shot her!" he screamed, turning to watch out the back window. Bullets continually barraged the back bumper, echoing through the rest of the body. Before they turned the corner off the street, Gerard watched as the bald man crouched, gingerly lifting the baby off of Lyn-Z's chest and cradling it in his own arms. _

"_NO!"_


End file.
